Forcebound
by TygraSol
Summary: A prequel to Shadowlands. She was five and he was fifteen, and fate threw them together from across the stars. She's his little sweetheart, and he'll do whatever it takes to protect her. This story is one of nightmares, fears, sweet dreams, hope, and a pure, steadfast love that can bring them out of the shadows, if they could just unlock the door and remember...
1. At First It Was A Drop

Begin, End, Begin Again (I'll Come Back)

Chapter One: At First It Was A Drop...

At first it was a drop, a strange sense of familiarity that rippled away, but it was there, absorbed into that wide ocean, hiding itself away in the tumultuous sea of his soul. He'd built up a fortress with formidable walls, to block the onslaught of tidal waves trying to break through, attempting to drown him in emotions he hasn't felt since he was a child. Since he begged them with weepy eyes not to be sent away. Since he trembled with fear, grappling to understand why, but he was sinking, drowning in confusion, and nobody saw him. Nobody dived in to save him as he flailed and sputtered. His need for a maternal embrace was not satisfied by the rushed hugs and kisses, and the broken emptiness that settled into his far too young eyes, eventually succumbed to weary resignation, and his will to fight gradually faded, as the tide finally pulled him under.

So, with an expressionless face, a monotone lilt in his voice, he bid his goodbyes and pretended he was brave. It was this false bravery that would lace the looming foundation for a citadel of isolation that would one day hold him captive. And as they let go of his hand and gave him up, his uncle took the other, and his little bones shuddered as an ominous draft stirred deep within. Once they were out of sight, and his uncle wasn't paying any mind to him, he caved, just for a little while, and let the sadness spring up one more time. _At first it was a drop._

* * *

She's five and she's cold, and hungry, and thirsty. She doesn't know where she is, it's so dark and the shadows are scary, and she can't go to sleep because the monsters in her nightmares will eat her. They left her, and she was afraid and confused. Why did they leave her? She remembers screaming, _come back, no, come back!_ But no one came. It's just her now. She's all alone. And because she's five, and doesn't understand what abandoned means, she calls out for her parents between pitiful sobs.

He's fifteen and alone. And now he's startled and sweating, because nobody was there, save himself, when he went to sleep. He instinctively grabs for his lightsaber as he sits up, slowly scanning the room as his eyes adjust in the dark, because the only light seeping through is the pale blue moon. " _Who's there?"_ He tries to sound tough and intimidating, but he's fifteen, and not quite done with puberty, and he silently curses when his voice inevitably cracks.

She shrieks, alarmed, and begins to cry harder. He snaps his head and… there. In the far corner. She's there and he sees her. He relaxes a bit. She's all curled up and tense. They stare at each other for ... _one... two... three..._ the seconds pass by. He _feels_ the fear gripping at him through her little eyes, and remembering himself, he carefully sets down the lightsaber. She's paralyzed and holding her breath as long as her five-year-old lungs can, but he slowly gets up from the bed and approaches her.

He sits down on his knees and holds out his hand, never taking his eyes off of her, as she trembles, then flinches instinctively, because raised hands aren't kind. " _I'm Ben."_ He offers a lop-sided grin. " _What's your name?"_ His voice is so gentle and encouraging, she wasn't sure what she expected, but he's still holding out his hand and she suddenly _feels_ safe. But, she still warily eyes him as she slowly slips her tiny fingers into his palm. She's freezing, he _feels_ it, but he's toasty warm and she _feels_ it too. She _knows_ she can trust him, only maker knows why, so she responds timidly, " _I'm Rey"_ , and he almost didn't catch it, because her whisper is so quiet.

 _"_ _That's such a pretty name… Rey."_ He can _feel_ her despair and she instantly steals a piece of his heart, so he squeezes her hand gently in his, reaches out with the other and wipes away the tears on her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. " _Why are you crying, sweetheart?"_ He gets that from his dad… sweetheart; it's a good memory, they're so few and far between, and his mom was always sweetheart, so, now… he decides she's sweetheart too.

It doesn't feel odd to simply ask her why she's crying, instead of ' _Where did you come from?'_ or, ' _Why are you here?'_ In fact, it never even crosses his mind, that this isn't even remotely normal, because his only concern right now is if she's hurt and how to fix whatever's wrong. She's been looking around the room, though, and now, she's even more terrified and properly puzzled, because she _REALLY_ doesn't know where she is anymore. It's not where she was when she shrank into the first corner she could find, but she's afraid to say anything, because this place seems a lot nicer than the other one. And it could be a dream, but she'll ruin it if she tells him this is somewhere it wasn't a few minutes ago, and he might send her back to where she didn't want to be in the first place. So she leaves out that part, because she's not sure she understands what she just explained in her head anyways.

" _I… I don't know… I don't know where I am."_ She stutters as her wet lashes flutter, and she thinks she'll start to cry again. " _They told me"_ … deep breath … _"they said I had to stay here… I want them to come back."_ And the tears pour like rain and she's shivering now, because she's sad and she's cold and her little body aches all over. He's stabbed through the heart, and its pure instinct, his reaction, to gather her in his arms, and now she's blubbering into his shoulder, and he's rubbing her back and her icy limbs, and, _"Shhh, it's ok… that's ok… I've got you."_

Once her red, puffy eyes have stopped leaking, and she's just hiccups and sniffles now, so he stands, grasps her hand, and gently leads her to the bed. It's more like a cot, but she thinks to herself that, _it's more comfy than a mat on the dirt floor_. He gets her settled, legs crossed, hands in her lap, head hung low, so he can't see her eyes. He wraps her in a blanket and plops down on the floor, leaning in next to her, elbow resting on the bed, hand supporting his cocked head. Her stomach growls, and he _feels_ her hunger pangs, she clutches her tummy with criss-crossed arms, and her face isn't quite a grimace, just a scrunchy nose and a sour pucker. He smiles and asks, _"Are you hungry?"_ She nods, so he gets up again, and walks towards the door. She straightens up, eyes darting towards him in a panic, because he's leaving her by herself, and he _feels_ her anxiety.

It's strange, he seems to feel everything she feels, and he wonders is she feels it too. He's quick to reassure her, _"It's ok, I'll be right back, I promise."_ She's still not convinced, so he comes back and kneels in front of her, so they can be face to face. _"Do you like games?"_ She faintly dips her head, he smiles and takes it as a yes. It makes her feel more at ease when he's smiling. _"Let's play one now. Ok? Just close your eyes, count all the way to twenty... but count real slow, ok? And when you open them, I'll have a surprise for you."_ He waits patiently as she thinks about it, she's hesitating and holding her breath, but he's just smiling with soft eyes, _"it's ok, it'll be like magic"_ , then, _trust me, I won't leave,_ but he said that inside his head, and she's sure she just imagining it, but she swore she heard it too, and all she does is blink.

He winks at her, playfully, like he's got a secret, and she _feels_ it's ok, so she squeezes her eyes shut and lifts her hands to her face, just for good measure, and then, _"One… two… three…"_ He's out the door, then slips back in, right on time for, _"Eighteen… nineteen… twenty"_. Her eyes open wide now, and she's looking at him like he's the most magical, amazing person in the galaxy, because he's got a handful of berries and a cup of water, and that silly grin might just be her new favorite thing; actually, her _only_ favorite thing, _ever_. _"I told you I'd be back."_

He marvels at her as she takes each bite, one at a time, because she's reveling in the way they cool her throat, how they taste, and berries are squishy, they gush in her mouth, and it dribbles down her chin, and her hands are dyed and sticky, but she doesn't care one bit, because she's never had fresh anything before. She sips the water like it's sweeter than honey, and he listens to her babble with berries in her mouth, between sloppy gulps. That silly grin's still stuck to his face. She chatters about stars, and ships, and sometimes she dreams about islands she wants to travel to far, far away.

He makes shadow puppets for her as she licks her fingers clean, then he traces little drawings on the floor, and she cackles, _politely_ informing him that his stick figures look like they got run over by a speeder… 72 and a half times... because she likes random numbers that don't make sense. He feigns offense when she says he should just draw circles instead, since you have to be really, _really_ bad to mess those up. She giggles again, because he's sticking his tongue out at her, crossing his eyes, and then she makes faces right back, and now they're competing to see who can stick their tongue out the farthest.

He finally gets up and nudges her shoulder with his elbow, because she's been dangling off the edge of the bed while he was sprawled out on the floor. But her sleepy eyes are flittering now, and he's yawned at least once every 38 and two-fifth seconds. So, now she moves over, scooting back to lean into the wall, wrapped up in his blanket like a cocoon, and he settles in right next to her. But before he has the chance to really stretch out and get comfortable, she's fast asleep against his shoulder, and he doesn't dare move because she's warm, safe, peaceful, and no longer sad. So, he lets his head fall back - there's a soft thud when he meets the wall - and he pulls another blanket over them both, since it was laying next to him. It's more for her than him, just to make sure she's bundled up well, because he has no clue where she came from or who she is, but she's five and he's fifteen, and she's already stolen a piece of his heart. He closes his eyes and sits there all night.


	2. Fifteen

Chapter Two: Fifteen

He'll discover she's gone by morning when he wakes. He'll spend the entire day feeling anxious and baffled, looking for her everywhere, in every corner and behind all the trees. He'll ask everyone - no, seriously - _every_ single person he crosses paths with, if they've seen her, but she'll be nowhere to be found. And he'll be met with blank stares, because they don't have a clue who, or what the _force_ he's talking about. His uncle will think he's just being fifteen, testing his patience in an attempt to push him over the edge of exasperation. Half of his peers will think he must have hit his head before going to bed, and the other half will think it's a really dumb joke. Because nobody will believe that a five-year-old girl just showed up in the middle of the night and vanished before dawn. He'll even start to wonder if, maybe, he _is_ going crazy, or if it was a bizzare, realistic dream. He'll finally give up and chock it up to something stupid, like dehydration, even though he practically breathes water like a fish.

But that will only last until sundown, when he's alone in his room, trying to read to take his mind off the crazy night before, but he won't be able to concentrate, and he'll read the same _kriffing_ line 13 and a quarter times. Because something about random numbers, and this definitely doesn't make any sense. He'll only happen to see her materialize in front of him, like a phantom, because he started getting this strange headache, more like a tug, at the base of his skull, and he thought if he focused on one spot on the wall and blocked everything out of his peripheral, it would disappear.

She would gape at him, like skeptical five-year-olds do, and he'll be just as dazed as she is, until he blinks first, and she gets smug, because she won the staring contest he didn't even know they were having. And just like that, they'll forget about anything, and _everything_ else, because all of this, whatever _this_ is, will just feel like… _home_.

Their strange new bond, which somehow doesn't feel strange at all, will become the catalyst for late nights, and tickle fights. And whether it's force, or fate, or a little of both, it would eventually spark a love like no love ever known before, or ever will be known again, in any time or space. Not _ever_. But they won't know that yet, and there will be a lot of pain and suffering, as they almost lose each other once, or twice, before it's all said and done.

For now, though, everything will be ok. Everything will feel... _just so_. Because one will imagine falling in love, holding hands, kissing, and romantic picnics on an island far, far away. And the other will be too wrapped up in the role of big, protective brother, because nobody protected him from monsters in the night. He won't recognize that the awestruck look in her eyes isn't because he entertains her with "magic tricks", or shows off his training skills. But everything will be ok, because, for 7 years, 10 months, and 13 and three-quarter days - because destiny likes random numbers that don't make sense - time will stand still for _those_ nights.

Those nights will be peppered with little moments that will make him slowly give away _one more piece_ of his heart to her, even when something much more sinister will be plotting to steal them back and destroy his soul. But they won't know that until she's thirteen, and he's twenty-three, and he'll make them both forget, until destiny finds them again. But none of that matters in _this_ lifetime, because in this version of the story, it will just be the two of them, in their own, perfect little world, where they won't feel _nothing_ , or think they _are_ nothing, and they won't be alone. No. They aren't alone.

* * *

He's fifteen and alone. The nightmares won't stop. Something cold and sinister hangs in the air, and it's suffocating him, and he's going to be sick. There's only one set of doors, and they tower over him, mocking him, because they're sealed shut and he can't escape. He's suddenly paralyzed, when _that_ voice, _HIS_ voice, slithers through the room. Then, he's no longer in control of himself, because he's being levitated in the air, and before he knows what's going on, _he_ is looming over him. He chokes back a petrified cry, but the saltwater pools and stings his eyes and cheeks, and he suddenly feels five years old.

The apparition is pale, but so very dark. He's ghastly and old, but he exudes a raw power that commands depraved praise and awe. He's going to die, he know it, this is _real_ , and the hope quickly fades that he'll wake up at all. As _he_ sits on _his_ throne of shadows, _he_ laughs a wicked, repulsive laugh, and a cold sweat sends chills down his spine. _He_ starts slowly, deliberately reaching twisted fingers down towards him, and one contorted, pointed tip is digging in now, not quite breaking skin, but it presses against his heart. _His_ curled nails are nauseating, and he begins to writhe and retch. But the menacing phantom just throws _his_ head back and chortles like a murderous demon.

 _His_ voice is poison, thunder, and gravel. _He_ shouts in a whisper, and it grates his ears as he quakes. He tries to shrink into himself, but to no avail. He knows he's not tough, or intimidating, and he screams in his head, because that _thing_ stole his voice, he can't breathe, and he's being crushed from every angle. Another cruel sneer, the pressure suddenly lifts. He drops to the floor, the air stabs his lungs, his pounding chest heaves, and it burns his throat like acid.

 _He_ speaks with a booming echo, and the reverberations threaten to burst his eardrums. " _You are nothing", he_ hisses. _"They abandoned you and gave you away."_ It's a lightsaber's chord resonating through his bones. Now, he's sobbing as images flash through his head. _He_ shows him every good memory he's ever had with his mom and dad. Every milestone, and _"good job, Ben"_ , and _"you're more powerful than you know"_ … it's every _"sweetheart"_ , and _"kiddo"_ , and _"try it again"_. All of it is there, except… except… _except_ , these memories seem different, they don't _feel_ right _or_ good anymore.

 _He's_ pointing out details he didn't know were ever there, because he was just a kid and didn't know what to look for. The fighting in the background, the hushed tones behind his back. The concern in their eyes and the inflection of their voice, if you really listened carefully and looked at their faces just right. And they've really _always_ thought there was darkness in his heart, they were just futilely trying to suppress it by drowning him with too many expectations, and blinding him with the light, all those endless mantras and recitations of what a force user should be.

But it became too much, his temper grew beyond their control, and their worry is actually fear and resentment, because they don't know how to handle him anymore. So, they whisper behind closed doors and they conspire to send him away. They tell him he should be excited, because it's an honor to be selected to train under the tutelage of his uncle. And their eyes simply reek of anticipation and desperation, and when they finally let go of his hand, he couldn't see the relief wash over their faces before.

He begs it to stop, but _he_ just laughs in his face. And now he's screaming because the torture drags on, he _knows_ he's going to die, and nobody will save him because he's fifteen and all alone. If they had _ever_ really loved him, they would have kept him safe from this bringer of death. But they didn't, because it was easier, to abandon him instead. Now, he's finally giving up, because it's easier to die, and be done with it all, than to hold on and fight in pain.

When he finally wakes up, his eyes are swollen and sore. His cheeks are chapped from dried up tears, his throat is raw and parched, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and everything burns. His soul is weighted down, and he knows there was a nightmare, but he can't remember a _thing_ that happened, and it scares him more than knowing ever could. But allll he _feels_ now, is that he's fifteen, and he's _nothing_ , except alone; he's nothing and alone, and that well's growing deeper in his soul.

But then there is _something_ he recalls, and it pacifies his nerves. It starts as a giggle, but then the images flash by. They're filled with rich, brown hair, big, hazel eyes, freckled cheeks, scrunchy noses, and sour puckers. He can't help but smile, because he remembers the truth when he thinks about her. He's not alone, because she's five and adores him. And he wants to be the big brother, because she needs someone to protect her and give her hope for the future. So, he pushes the nightmares down and vows to never dwell on them again. Then he waits until dusk for her to appear, his little ray of light, his _sweetheart._ And he makes sure she gets to play whatever game she wants, he sneaks tasty treats - she loves berries best - and he acts like an idiot, goofing around just for her, so she's nothing but smiles and sweet dreams when her little mind finally tells her it's time to rest.


	3. Five

Chapter Three: Five

He forgot he had ever loved with every _fiber_ of his being. That he had ever felt anything at all. Anything greater than; _better_ than rage. No, he had never loved or been loved. Hope was an offensive word, compassion a slap in the face, and redemption was just a figment of the imagination. He cringed at the idea of rescue. He didn't need to be rescued. He had a purpose, he had power, he had _everything_ he needed. He had become a master of manipulation, of lies and deceit. He was adept at convincing himself. He wasn't being controlled. He wasn't a slave. He didn't hate himself or plead behind closed doors at night for a swift end, so he could finally be free. No. He didn't do any of that. He didn't need to be saved, _he didn't need to be SAVED!_ Yet, here she was, this ray of light. A savior. _His_ savior. And he wanted to _destroy_ her; to torture and break her; to sacrifice her to _HIM_. He hated her with every _fiber_ of his being. And if he didn't succeed in corrupting her, she would be his undoing.

* * *

 _Stay here. I'll come back for you. I'll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise._ His hands were applying pressure, firmly, on either side of his head. He wanted to stop, but he had to keep going. He felt sick. He knew he was breaking his promise; he was going back on his word, and if she knew, she would hate him. But he's going to break it anyway, because he loves her more than he could ever love himself, and he'll destroy his soul again and again to save her.

The pain was nearly unbearable, but he knew he wouldn't hurt like this for long. It would all be over, soon enough. _Everything_ would be erased. Every last trace of her from his own head. He didn't need memories, dreams, or words. Not like she did. The _only_ thing he needed was to protect her, from _HIM_. And he needed to do it now, before _he_ opened that last door inside his mind; the one where she stays, with stolen pieces of his heart. He's been fighting for so long to keep it locked and sealed. But _he_ was coming for him now, and he couldn't hide her much longer.

So, he pushed through the pain, falling to his knees, as his shrill screams pierced the night. His palms were still pressed into his temples, harder now, as he gripped his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. Pinpricks of blood were beginning to pool. He pressed, gripped, dug, and bled, as much as he had to, so he wouldn't let go. Her name. Her face. Those bright hazel eyes. Her chestnut locks. Every blessed freckle on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. He wiped it _all_ away; She vanished, gone forever.

His arms finally gave way and he collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap of misery. As the shadows crept over him, and he had nothing left, that sinister thing ripped through his chest and clenched his heart in its gnarled grasp. His dying breath was coming to its end, and just before he slipped away, the darkness consumed him. The last spark in his eyes faded out as they slipped shut. Ben Solo was no more.

* * *

She was strong, a survivor; then she was a woman, and she realized he wasn't _real_. Nobody was coming back for her. Nobody had ever loved her. The time had come to put away childish dreams. So, she left in search of a place to belong and a meaningful purpose.

She didn't know it was _him_ when they finally crossed paths. He had tried to break her, hoping to bring her into submission. His goal was to turn her. But when that failed, he fought her, though he was still reluctant to destroy her. She fought back valiantly. Her natural gift to manipulate the force impressed him, and he wanted to train her. She nearly killed him and left him for dead instead.

She had no idea then that he would survive. She didn't know that one day, she's would fall in love with him, without ever realizing it. She'd become his savior, his best friend, his soulmate, his _sweetheart_. She'd bring him back, they'd remember everything, and then they'd be consumed by a love that had never been known in all of time and space. They would balance each other and become the bright beacon of hope that their universe so desperately needed.

But he won't come back, because he's never loved her. He never met her, never held her in his arms and protected her from the creatures of the night. He never _knew_ her, and he'd never memorized every freckle on her face, or her bright hazel eyes, or how she loved berries once upon a time, though she doesn't even know what they are in this lifetime.

He _will_ eventually fall in love with her, without ever realizing it. But the darkness will still keep him in chains. He doesn't know how to fight, or sacrifice, or be a knight; even though he did once, in another life that never existed. He'll break her heart a thousand times and give her up again, though he never knew he'd given her up once before. He'll fail her and let an all-consuming love slip right through his hands, because he's already consumed by something else. Because, fairytales aren't real, villains don't get happy endings, and we're all just abandoned, abused, broken fractals in the end.

 _This_ time, she'll shut him out, because she has no clue what he meant to her, once upon a time. All she can see now is a selfish creature, with or without his mask, whose lust for power is greater than his will to fight for love. _This_ is the ill-fated destiny she's been gifted. But it's far less like a gift and much more like a curse.

This timeline was never meant to be. Their fates were once whole, but now they're split in half, and the universe is desperately trying to mend them. So, they'll keep colliding, dancing in circles, pulling away and coming together. Begin, end, begin again. On and on, their story unfolds, until they finally destroy each other.

One timeline will declare victory over the other, and only time will tell which fate will prevail. It could never have ended any other way. But she's strong. She's a survivor. And, maybe, this time will be different. He sacrificed himself to save her once. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe, now, she could sacrifice herself to save him.

* * *

" _Ben?"_ She stood at the foot of his head, shaking like a leaf. Her little eyes were wet, and she was sniffling as she whispered. Ben moaned as he slowly turned in his bed, before groggily propping himself up on his arm. It took him a moment to adjust; she hadn't appeared to him in almost a week. This bond, or force, was a fickle thing, and they had no control over it, as far as Ben could tell. He took in her small form and frowned.

" _What's wrong, sweetheart? How long have you been here?"_ He sat up further and motioned for her to come to him. She practically threw herself into his outstretched arms. _"I don't know. It's so cold… and the monsters… they're gonna come for me again. I don't wanna sleep."_ She buried her face into his chest, desperately trying to make herself disappear in his protective embrace. He hugged her tightly and stroked the back of her head, running his fingers tenderly through her hair.

" _Shhh… it's ok, I've got you. Come here, you can lay down next to me."_ He moved over and helped her climb into the bed. She curled up into a ball, clenching her fists and pressing her arms firmly to her chest. He covered the both of them with his blankets, then gently pulled her into him, rubbing her arm to keep her warm. She whimpered, her eyes beginning to tear up again. _"You're safe here. I promise. Why do you think there are monsters coming to get you? Did you have a bad dream?"_

She just nodded faintly, then hiccupped as a tear trailed down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. _"That's ok… I get bad dreams too sometimes. But I promise you, there aren't any monsters here. Do you know why?"_ He brushed a few stray hairs away from her face as she turned her head slightly to look at him. _"Why?"_ She murmured quietly.

He flashed her favorite grin. _"Because, monsters are dumb, but they aren't stupid. They wouldn't dare try to come after you as long as you're with me. They know how much scarier I can be, because I have the force to make me stronger. Compared to me, they're just cowardly little bugs. And you know how to defeat bugs don't you?"_ She was staring at him with wide, attentive eyes now. _"How?"_ she wondered in amazement.

He lowered his voice as though he was telling her the most important secret ever kept. _"You squish them!"_ He moved his hand out in front of her, so she could see better, then made a dramatic show of crushing an imaginary bug in the palm of his hand. She giggled as he tickled her, relaxing her arms a bit, and uncoiling from her rigid position.

" _I want to be strong, and brave, and scary, just like you someday, so I can squish the monsters like bugs."_ She had latched onto his arm now, dragging it around her so she could stay bundled up, safe and secure in their own little bubble she'd imagined they were in. He beamed at her, relishing how much she idolized him. It was nice to be wanted. To be needed. To not be held to such a high standard and face disappointment every time he made a mistake.

The only way this sweet, 5-year-old little girl, saw him, was as a fearless hero. Her knight in shining armor. She was so pure and innocent, and she loved him unconditionally. She counted on him and he wanted to be all those amazing things for her. But there was a part of him, nagging at the back of his mind, that made him uneasy and worried.

She needed him to ward off the monsters, but he had a sinking feeling that he couldn't even vanquish his own monsters. The nameless, faceless presence that lurked in the silence, infiltrating dreams he couldn't remember or make sense of. He hoped she would never have to deal with anything like that. He wanted to keep her safe, forever.

For now, though, the only monsters that plagued her were squishable little bugs, and he would annihilate every single one, so she could sleep and have peaceful dreams. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her gently. _"You're already strong, and very brave. But not scary. You could never be scary. And you don't want to be like me. You'll be even better, someday. But tonight, we don't have to be anything. There's no more monsters to fight. And it's time to rest."_

He adjusted the covers once more before settling in with her still tightly against him. She was soon fast asleep, a soft smile lingering on her lips as she dreamed. He drifted off not long after, listening to her steady breathing, and the rhythm of their heartbeats, offsetting each other. _This_ is what true peace felt like. A five-year-old sweetheart and her fifteen-year-old guardian angel.


	4. Beware The Monsters

**Chapter Four: Beware the Monsters**

Beware the monsters. Ben Solo fought them all his life. They took on many forms, but they all stemmed from the same emotion. One he had never been able to take control of. _Fear._ It would rear its ugly head just when he thought he'd made it through another storm. It would wreak havoc on every aspect of Ben's life, and nothing he did could help him break free of its unyielding grasp. Had even _one_ person in his childhood recognized his cries for help, things might have turned out very differently for him. Regrettably, the past cannot be rewritten, and our most defining moments are often the least significant and the hardest to decipher.

Evil isn't born. It's made. It never announces itself with blaring sirens or flashy parades. It's subtle and soundless, taking root through planted seeds over a long period of time, gradually blooming into something that is nearly impossible to eradicate once it invades. Like goodness, evil must be nurtured and cultivated. One can choose to feed their compassion or their fear. They will both always be there, sharing a space and purpose within one's spirit. But without balance, one will starve while the other thrives. _This_ is how darkness comes to life and light begins to die _. Fear. Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

Anyone who gives into fear can be molded and transformed into an unrecognizable beast. It is how the dark entices you, promising power to erase the fear, and by the time you realize you're just a puppet on a string, it's too late to turn back. And then the dark uses your guilt against you. It spins lies, telling you that _nobody_ will stand by you after the things you've done. The things you once feared have _consumed_ you in your quest to conquer, so that you now crave the fear of others to distract you from your own torment. It is a _vicious_ cycle of fear begetting fear, begetting _more_ fear, trickling down the vine and rotting you from the inside out. Eventually, once you've become numb to it, you will come to accept the fact that you can never change, because the darkness has exhausted your resolve and worn you down to nothingness. _This_ is when you'll decide there is no more hope. And hopelessness makes it easier to bury your emotions and hide behind a mask.

But even a creature in a mask is afraid of something darker than death and damnation. Creatures in masks fear what they will be _without_ the dark. They fear what might happen if someone _defies_ their expectations and offers them hope. Compassion. _Love._ It's a never-ending loop of fighting who your fear is molding you to become, embracing it once you've become the thing you feared, resisting the pull to abandon the identity your fear has provided for you, and trying to discover who you truly are once there is no more past or fears to define you. It's a curse that can _only_ be broken by _facing_ your fears and choosing compassion over hate. It's a sobering thing to have to decide between the _weakness_ that offers instant gratification and power, yet damns you to a miserable fate, and the strength that can only guarantee a life of hope and acceptance, despite an uncertain future. Therein lies the burdensome truth. No matter what you choose, the price to pay is equally steep. _Beware the monsters._

* * *

" _I don't want to go. Please, don't make me leave. I'll be good, I promise! I want to stay with you!"_

He clung to his mother's robes, imploring her with tear-filled eyes. She stroked his hair softly, a torn smile painting her face, though it did nothing to comfort either one of them. They were sitting on his bed next to an open suitcase that was waiting to be packed with his things for the long journey ahead. They still had another week to prepare. Luke would arrive in a few days, and then they would have a brief reunion. It was a time for all of them to be together before saying their goodbyes. This would not be the end, of course, but young Benjamin didn't know that. He was only seven, after all. Leia tilted his face up with her hand, then leaned over to press her forehead to his as she spoke in a reassuring tone.

" _It's only for a few months. You will be back before Life Day and then the whole family will be together for an entire month."_

Ben buried his face into his mother's robes, wrapping his small arms tightly around her waist as he protested.

" _But I want to stay! What did I do wrong? I can be better. I won't cause trouble! Please, don't let him take me away!"_

Leia rubbed circles slowly on his back to soothe him. She let out a gentle sigh.

" _Oh, Ben. This isn't a punishment. You didn't do anything wrong. Your uncle is_ excited _to have you join his new academy. It's a great honor, and you'll get the chance to better bond with him. I know how much you love Uncle Luke."_

He pulled away briefly to look up at his mother with a despairing frown and glassy eyes.

" _But why must I go? Why can't uncle come stay_ here _and train me? He could visit whenever he wants. I don't want to leave. I don't want to go to the academy."_

Leia smiled knowingly and rested her hand against his tear-stained cheek.

" _My son… my sweet,_ sweet _Ben. I understand how you feel. It's very scary to leave home and embark on a new adventure. But, it will be a_ wonderful _experience, if you give it a chance. The Praxeum is much better suited for training and learning. You will do well there."_

She tenderly dragged her thumb across his furrowed brow, stroking lightly to smooth the creases that were blemishing her son's innocent face. He lowered his eyes towards the ground with a pensive expression, his bottom lip puckered ever so slightly as he tried to process all the possible outcomes of leaving home. When he finally met her gaze again, a new worry now visibly clouded over his already stormy visage, fearful and desperate. He pitifully whimpered as he latched onto his mother again.

" _What if something_ bad _happens? What if I never see you or daddy again?"_

Leia blinked, surprised by the _hopelessness_ her son was emanating through one irrational thought. Of course, he _would_ see them again, and the idea that something bad might happen was simply nonsensical in her mind, but to see her son so utterly _distraught_ by the thought of losing his family broke her heart. She carefully lifted him onto her lap and embraced him, kissing his hair and rocking him in an effort to calm his fears and set his mind at ease. Her voice was lulling, full of confidence and encouragement.

" _It's not forever, son. We're not going_ anywhere. _Nothing's going to happen, and we'll be waiting for you when you come back. You'll have a chance to make friends! There will be other children your age. You can tell them the stories daddy always tells you about him, and me, and uncle Luke, and – "_

Ben tentatively perked up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffled. He momentarily forgot his apprehension and uncertainty at the prospect of regaling wide-eyed, attentive playmates with the thrilling escapades of daring smugglers, fearless princesses, courageous Jedis, and spirited Wookies.

" _And uncle Chewie too?"_

Leia grinned at her son as his eyes lit up, just a little. He was starting to warm up to the idea, she thought.

" _Yes! I bet they would_ love _to hear about uncle Chewie! You're going to do fine. You'll have_ plenty _of things to do and people to meet. The time will pass quickly, I promise."_

The corners of his mouth were instinctively curling upwards, and he tried to imagine making friends and training and spending time with his uncle. But the anxiety of leaving home and not being with his parents still tugged at his little heartstrings, and his demeanor fell just as quickly as it had brightened. He murmured, a tinge of dejection breaking through with his words.

" _But what if I don't_ like _it there? What if I want to come home?"_

His mother sighed deeply and began to shift on the bed. She sat him down at the edge before getting up. She then crouched down to his level, taking his hands in hers as they rested on his knobby knees. Their eyes locked, and she pursed her lips for a moment, mapping out a solution in her head that she thought would be acceptable to him. He patiently waited for her reply, silently observing her eyes and features. He wanted to memorize the kindness in her face, and how full of life and love she was, so that he would never forget her, as if this might be the last time he would ever see her. She squeezed his hands gently and spoke with the graceful composure of a true diplomat. Negotiations and treaties had _always_ been her forte.

" _How about this. If you promise to give it a chance for_ one month _…_ _just a month… and if you still don't like it, you can have Luke help you contact daddy. He'll be on a mission while you're gone, but if you are_ really _that miserable once the month is up, I will make sure he comes to get you and bring you home. Does that sound fair?"_

Ben mulled over the proposal for a few minutes. It was not the compromise he had hoped for, but at least it was _something_. And he knew it was futile to argue with his mother. Her word was _law_ , and he would have to go with his uncle whether he liked it or not. If he could hold out for _just_ a month, perhaps he could build a case to appeal to her better nature and change her mind. So, he reluctantly agreed to the terms laid out before him.

" _Ok… I guess…"_

Leia gave him a soft smile, drawing him in for a hug. He resignedly nestled his chin into the crook of her neck as she patted the back of his head and offered uplifting affirmations that she hoped would raise his spirits.

" _This is a_ good _thing, sweetheart. You're growing up so fast. Before you know it, you'll be a man. Just as handsome as your father. Even_ more so, _I'm sure. And hopefully, force willing, a Jedi knight as well. You are_ very _special, Ben. You could do_ anything _you put your mind to. You have the power to help change the_ galaxy _someday, if you want to."_

He sighed forlornly, tightening his grip around his mother's waist. There was a weariness settling in his too young soul, and he wished for nothing more than to be free of such heavy burdens. He had _no_ desire to change the galaxy. He was a child who needed his mother, nothing more, nothing less. He uttered an inaudible prayer, one last bid to stave off the winds of change.

" _I just want to stay with you…"_

" _I know, son. I know."_

She ran her fingers through his hair and gently pulled away to kiss his temple. They would get through this. She knew they would. And he would come around eventually, that precious boy of hers. He was strong, intelligent, resilient, and brave. He was a Skywalker _and_ a Solo, through and through. _Nothing_ would change that. Not _ever_. Leia drew him back into her and they sat and cuddled in silence for a long while. When it was time for bed, she tucked him in and turned off the lights. Ben called out to her sleepily before she left the room, and she affectionately replied.

" _I love you, mama."_

" _I love you too, Ben."_

And the she bid him goodnight. But Ben didn't sleep that night. He cowered under his sheets, silently begging the force to vanquish the monsters he felt creeping in the shadows of his room. He dreaded the day when he and his uncle would depart. It was approaching too quickly, and once he left the safety of his home, he knew his parents would no longer be there to save him from the monsters. When sleep finally claimed him after what felt like _hours_ of battling invisible terrors, he had all but succumbed to the inventions of his paranoid little mind. Before the last thread of consciousness unraveled and he slipped away into the realm of dreams, he thought he'd imagined a sinister voice telling him it was coming for him as soon as his parents sent him away. He didn't want to go.

* * *

Ben lazily pushed his food around the plate with a fork as he listened to two of his peers banter back and forth with one another. It was a daily routine for them, arguing over philosophical fundamentals and overanalyzing Luke's lesson of the day. Brothers and sisters love to bicker about such things, he supposed. Not that he had any experience other than watching his mother and uncle go at each other on occasion. But watching Vladik and Myka was much more entertaining, and they were, by _far_ , the most colorful padawans at the academy. They were spirited enough for the whole school, and they had a way of making Ben feel accepted, rather than the outsider he considered himself to be most days. It was hard to feel lonely with these two around, though their company was best taken in small doses, otherwise one's brain might _implode_ with the incessant talking and near constant togetherness.

For an introvert like Ben, having to socialize or engage himself with others, beyond common courtesies and quick exchanges of pleasantries when necessary, was absolute _torture._ There was only _one_ person in the universe, aside from the dynamic duo, that he tolerated that level of fellowship with, and _only_ because she was too young to give off pretenses. She also didn't know who he really was, or what his familial connections meant to most people. Being the son of a famous smuggler and renowned political figure, who also happened to be royalty, was _already_ enough to single him out. But being the nephew of a legendary _Jedi Master_? Well. _That_ was _impossible_ to overlook. Especially with most of the other padawans scrutinizing practically _every_ interaction with said Master, looking for signs of favoritism to hold over his head. Luke didn't play favorites, of course. In fact, sometimes it felt as though he was purposely harder on Ben, just to prove that being family didn't rank above or exempt _anyone_ from the strict rules and principles of the temple, founded on the Jedi Code.

It goes without saying that _most_ people gave Ben his space and didn't often bother to acknowledge him, unless they were _foolishly_ hoping that paying him any mind would grant them better access to Master Skywalker and his good graces. Ben would rather be by himself and suffer the loneliness than to be subjected to fake rapports with people he considered to be _unworthy_ of his friendship. Myka and Vladik were the rare exceptions. They were honest and open-minded, never expecting anything from him. They weren't critical of him either, except to test his skills against their own and challenge each other's understanding of the Jedi Code. They were competitive and fierce and weren't afraid to call people out, speak their minds, or get their hands dirty if the necessity arose.

He had to admit, he rather enjoyed their heated debates, and the lively pair were the closest thing he had to friends – no – _family_ , since he first arrived at the Praxeum. They had an unspoken allegiance to one another, sealed with an unbreakable bond and upheld with an understood code of honor. _True comrades_ , if ever there was such a thing. Ben's lip imperceptibly ticced upwards for a fleeting second at the thought. He shook it off and inhaled deeply through his nose, pulling himself back to the present. His companions continued their bickering, hardly taking notice of him as they were so _thoroughly_ absorbed in the current topic of choice. As he half-listened, he mindlessly shoveled another bite of fish into his mouth. Vladik was gesturing with upturned palms, his booming voice carrying with enthusiasm across the mess hall.

"I'm _just_ saying! I think it's open to interpretation."

Myka rolled her eyes and shook her loose, caramel curls briskly, a couple of stray strands sticking to the corner of her mouth. She roughly swiped them away with a huff of annoyance.

" _You_ think _everything_ is open to interpretation."

"Your _face_ is open to interpretation."

Vladik crossed his arms and puffed his chest proudly as his sister threw daggers with her fiery amber eyes. His attention now drawn to the epic showdown about to unfold, Ben snorted, arching his brow slightly. _This should be interesting._

" _Real_ mature, _Vlad_. Your intellectual proficiency is _astounding_."

Vladik scoffed.

"And what would _you_ know about intellectual proficiency, _little missy_?"

" _Clearly_ more than _you_ , mister _big stuff_."

Myka jabbed an accusing finger towards his head, wordlessly implying with her sharp gesture and unimpressed demeanor that his _overly_ inflated ego was _suffocating_ his brain. Vladik dismissed her with a dramatic eyeroll and a condescending smirk.

" _Clearly._ Forget it… you don't know what you're talking about. You're just a _kid_."

 _Uh oh._ Here come's trouble. Ben braced himself for the inevitable spiel that would follow. His foolhardy friend had a _nasty_ habit of poking beasts that were better left alone, and he was well acquainted with the taste of _foot_ in his mouth. It was best to keep one's head low and pretend that you weren't there when Vladik and Myka took their gloves off to spar with each other. He shifted his gaze back to his plate and stabbed at the bland fish. The mounting tension hung thick in the air.

"Oh, and you're _not_? Well then… _please,_ oh _wise one_ … _enlighten_ me on what makes _you_ any closer to adulthood than _I_ am."

Vladik didn't skip a beat as he rashly took the bait. _Off to a great start, we are._

"W _ith pleasure_! For one… you're _twelve_ … not even a _teenager_ yet! I'm _definitely_ bigger than you. And _stronger_. _And_ , I've got nearly _three years_ on you, so I'll _always_ be closer to adulthood than you."

Well. That's _one_ foot in the grave. One more to go. The blithering oaf soon to be _formerly_ known as Vladik was _literally_ flexing his _kriffing bicep_ as he smugly stared down his sister. Ben idly chewed his food, making himself busy by rolling peas around the plate with his fork. He'd like to be _anywhere_ else but here right now. Myka was reaching her boiling point with each passing second. Even the volcanoes of Mustafar were _nothing_ compared to the fury of a _Myka_ scorned.

" _That's_ debatable. Actually… you know what? It's _not_. I don't _need_ to be bigger, because I'm _absolutely_ stronger than you. _Bar none!_ And _everyone_ knows that girls mature faster than boys. Your age won't help you if your _pea-sized brain_ doesn't catch up to mine for another decade or two. Which, at this rate, I find it _highly_ improbable that you'll _ever_ catch up. Maybe, if you started acting your _age_ , instead of your _shoe size_. I've never met _anyone_ more immature and obtuse than _you_ , Vlad. Nobody on your level even _exists_ in the entirety of the universe!"

If Ben didn't know any better, he'd swear that Vladik was actually _amused_ by his sister's temper. This dumbass wasn't just laughing in the face of danger. He was gleefully ricocheting off the walls, launching himself at an unstable reactor with wild abandon. It was a blatant dare for her to explode and incinerate him. Ben had to agree with Myka on this one. For someone only four months and a few days younger than him, Vladik had the common sense of a brain-dead _buckethead_. It was a wonder that he hadn't already gotten himself spaced in the short fifteen years he'd been alive and breathing.

"Careful, little sister. Your emotions are showing. One might think you were attempting to channel the _dark_ side of the force. Remember the Jedi Code. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is ser-"

Myka snarled and gritted her teeth, spitting at him venomously as she ground out her retort.

"Do _not_ quote the Jedi Code to _me_ , you illiterate, sanctimonious _sleemo_! You wouldn't know the dark side of the force if it _bit_ you in the _ass_! And you're one to talk. You're about as _peaceful_ as a Mandalorian in a rowdy cantina!"

Vladik roared with laughter, drawing eyes from all over the lunchroom. He was guffawing so violently that he practically choked on air, unable to catch his breath. Tears formed in his eyes and he snorted every time he tried to inhale, nearly coughing up a lung afterwards. Ben groaned and lifted his cup to his lips, averting his gaze to the far wall on the opposite side of the cafeteria as he took exaggerated sips of water. Myka was _not_ amused. Vladik continued to pant and wheeze, sputtering like a crazed idiot.

"Did you seriously just call me a _sleemo_?! Ha! That's kriffing _hilarious_! I didn't know I could be illiterate _and_ sanctimonious at the same time. I must be incredibly talented to be able to pull that off! And a _Mandalorian_ to boot? Well… if that was meant to be an _insult,_ I think you may have lost your touch a bit, sis. It would be an _honor_ to be considered such a fine warrior! Thank you, _my lady._ You are too… _magnanimous_."

He bowed his head low and waved his arm towards her in a grand, sweeping gesture, his golden-brown locks falling into his light, rascally eyes. Ben gawked at him in awe. The boy, rationality be _damned_ , genuinely knew no bounds. He had flirted, tangoed with, and all but _proposed_ to Death, and _still_ his morbid curiosity was not yet satisfied. What more could he _possibly_ do to send her over the edge? Myka pinched the bridge of her nose and grimaced. If patience was a virtue, then the young female padawan was _far_ from virtuous.

On the contrary, she had grown weary of her brother's antics _eons_ ago, and her disdain couldn't have been more palpable than it was now. Still, ever the elegant model of brains and beauty, her sharp, calculating mind always ten steps ahead, she attempted to rein in her more destructive desires, foreseeing the calamitous outcome if she didn't control herself. She _refused_ to be lured and provoked like a starved wampa being taunted with another wampa's fresh tauntaun kill. _No._ Vladik would _not_ get the best of her this time. She would have to settle for petty name calling instead.

" _Maker_ , you're such a kriffing _moof-milker_."

Vladik waved her off facetiously, turning his nose up in true patronizing fashion. One would have thought he was the crowned _emperor_ of the _cosmos_ , sitting high and mighty on his throne.

"I'll allow it. At least I'm not hormonally unstable. Are you _sure_ you're not preparing for your monthly cycle, _sister_? Because, _that_ would explain a lot, you know…"

 _Kriffing hell. There_ it was. The final nail in the coffin. Force be with that unfortunate soul, because there was _no_ coming back once Vladik had stepped over _that_ line. Ben choked, spewing water through his nose and all over their food trays. He gaped at them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, his nostrils and throat raw and stinging. As if on cue, the entire mess hall plunged into deafening silence, onlooking spectators suddenly leaning forward in their seats with bated breaths. This was bad. This was _very_ bad.


	5. They Lurk In The Shadows

**AN: Yay! Chapter Five! I'm finally making some progress! It's been a challenging couple of months for me. I have started so many chapters between this fanfic (prequel) and my main fanfic that follows this, and it's just been super frustrating that none of my story is revealing itself to me in the right order! But, I'm not giving up! I won't bother promising set updates, I'm just going to have to do the best that I can when I have the time. Hopefully these last two chapters tide everyone over, they are unusually long for this particular story. I don't think the next few chapters will be as lengthy, but I guess we'll wait and see. Anyways, in case anyone was wondering, I figured I'd post our new characters name pronunciation. They're fairly easy to figure out, but better safe than sorry! Oh, and just because I'm super anal and meticulous, I'm throwing in a more detailed description of their appearance. Just humor me a little! Thanks! Enjoy the chapter. This is my favorite one so far.**

* * *

 **Character Profiles:**

 **Myka (MY-kah):** Species - Human / Gender - Female / Skin Tone - Fair / Hair Color - Caramel Blonde / Eye Color - Russet Amber (think deep reds and oranges)

 **Vladik (VLAD-ick; short a like glad):** Species - Human / Gender - Male / Skin Tone - Fair / Hair Color - Dark Golden Brown / Eye Color - Golden Amber (yellow-orange topaz shade, like the birthstone)

 **P.S. There WILL be more characters soon, and species is important because not everyone at the Praxeum is from the human race. You've probably already come to this conclusion, but these characters will play MAJOR roles throughout my fanfic series. Three guesses as to who they become. I'll give you a hint: if you need a second or third guess, you haven't been paying attention to the movies/canon novelizations. Get outta here and go learn things! (Jk... seriously though, we all know where this story leads. Don't play dumb.) Alright, I'm done harrassing you poor fanfic-ers for the day. As always, read it, review it, and give me some love! TTFN!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: They Lurk in The Shadows**

One could never be sure who started the fight. After all, nobody had actually _seen_ who shot first, and it was anyone's guess as to where it originated from. It's not as though the quick flip of a wrist or faint twitch of a finger could be easily pinpointed. The overwhelming amount of carnage was well dispersed throughout the mess hall. Those poor fish never stood a chance. Before anyone could bat an eye, the entire hall had erupted into boisterous chaos, and there was _no_ escaping the battle unscathed. So, there they were, dozens of little padawan soldiers, maniacally cackling with impish grins as they flung mashed potato grenades and fired off pea bullets in rapid succession, riddling the air with a colorful array of mush and shredded filets.

It didn't take long for alliances to form. A few clever strategists took it upon themselves to split off into small clans and claim the titles of General and Commander. Some of the older padawans helped topple tables onto their sides, creating barricades that would shield them from the enemy's attacks. They wasted no time dragging their wounded to safety, gathering up as much ammo as they could find in their vicinity. A few casualties were caught between the main trenches in no being's land, and they quickly gave up, deciding it was safer to simply lie prostrate on the floor with their arms covering their heads, remaining motionless until a cease fire eventually took place.

It was a _glorious_ affair, to be sure, made even more spectacular by… "innovative" applications of the force. Never let it be said that aspiring young Jedi knights were not resourceful, cunning, and creatively imaginative. Under _ordinary_ circumstances, the war would have been over before it ever began. But _today_ , Master Skywalker was out attending to some important business matter or other, and he wasn't expected to return for several hours. So, imagine their mortified surprise when roughly twenty minutes into their warfare, an _extremely_ irate Luke entered the dining area, his commanding presence abruptly ending the battle cries and flying projectiles.

A stray pea whizzed past his ear and was instantly squashed between his thumb and forefinger, courtesy of years spent refining Jedi reflexes. Somewhere, on the opposite side of the cafeteria, a utensil dropped. Several moments passed, chock-full of searing, unadulterated trepidation. The _only_ sound that penetrated the profound suspension were several erratic heartbeats, blood pumping wildly in youngling ears. Once the adrenaline had brusquely fled their systems, the Jedi Master opened his mouth to speak. He was quiet, his voice low and calm, but his stern tone rang clearly throughout the lunchroom.

" _What_ , is the meaning of this?"

All eyes in the room were transfixed on him, rigid bodies planted firmly to their spots. Nobody dared to move. There was no breathing. Not even a _blink_. Luke took a single step forward and observed the mutinous scene before him. He addressed them all again, as cool and collected as ever, despite the fire in his eyes and his faintly flushed complexion.

"I _do_ believe, I asked a question."

A pregnant pause lingered. He raised his voice a pitch higher.

"Who here can tell me why a _peaceful_ meal has been thrown into such a _disgraceful_ state of _mayhem_ and _misconduct_?"

He began to leisurely pace around the room, scrupulously scanning so that his gaze settled upon _each_ and _every_ face, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable and were forced to avert their eyes. Several students now shifted under his soul-piercing stare, a few uneasy coughs breaking the silence here and there. _Still,_ not a single one was brave enough to come forward and verify what instigated the debacle. Though Luke was already _certain_ he knew who the perpetrators were. Three prime suspects just so happened to be standing in the eye of the storm, the presumed ground zero judging by the _obscene_ amounts of minced flesh and pulped veggies. The culprits in question refused to unglue their eyes from the floor as Luke traversed the room with purposeful steps.

He came to a stop not three feet from the trio and examined them thoroughly from head to toe. Myka's cheeks were painted a lovely shade of crimson, a bit of green and cream smudged atop the bridge of her nose. She cautiously ventured to angle her head, just enough to direct an incensed scowl at her brother as she clenched her fists tightly to her sides. Vladik, edible war paint smeared across his forehead and below his eyes, was exercising _all_ his willpower not to sneer at her in defiant contempt. But Luke ignored them both, focusing instead on red-tipped ears, slumped shoulders, and low-hung head with plastered hair of one perturbed _Ben Solo._ The Jedi Master crossed his arms, tapping a slender finger just above his elbow in expectation. Ben took his time lifting his eyes to meet his uncle's.

" _Ben."_

" _Master Skywalker."_

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Ben hesitated. He wasn't all that inclined to rat out his comrades, and he certainly didn't care for the way his uncle was _always_ quick to assume that _he_ was the sole instigator of any hijinks that took place around the Praxeum. He warily cocked his head to one side as he sluggishly drawled.

"Not particularly…"

Luke's brow peaked, a warning flashing across his face. This prompted Ben to quickly amend his statement. He nervously cleared his throat.

"I mean… no sir."

Luke nodded with a hum, lifting his hand to stroke his chin in deep contemplation.

"I see..."

He then turned to confront Myka and Vladik, who were still locked in a glaring match.

"And what about _you two_? Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

They stiffened, snapping their heads towards him simultaneously. A thin sheen of sweat was developing above Vladik's brow. Myka swallowed thickly, pale and paralyzed under Luke's scrutinizing eye. They answered in unison.

"No, Master Skywalker."

He hummed again.

"Well. It seems we've reached an impasse."

Myka, Vladik, and Ben lowered their heads again, each shuffling their feet and fidgeting awkwardly as Luke bore into them with laser-like vision. He eased up after a moment, relaxing his tone as he addressed the issue at hand.

"What do you suggest we do to _remedy_ the situation?"

The padawan threesome sheepishly looked up at him, knowing full well that he already had the appropriate solution in mind. There was no point in responding to rhetorical questions. They knew what their punishment would be, even _without_ the force pushing his utter disappointment at them in persistently nagging waves. He nodded, letting out a pensive sigh as he clasped his hands behind his back. It was the confirmation of a verdict reached.

"Well then. You better get started."

He turned to delegate orders to the rest, everyone soundlessly ogling him in restless anticipation.

"I expect this place to be _spotless_ within the hour. You will _all_ work together to scrub down _every_ nook and cranny, and then you will get yourselves cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes. Afterwards, I should think you would all like to be dismissed to privately meditate for the rest of the day and reflect on your actions, wouldn't you agree?"

The resounding, conditioned response echoed submissively through the air in one monotonous voice.

" _Yes, Master Skywalker."_

"Very good."

Luke shooed them with a wave of his hand, and they immediately set about their tasks, murmuring amongst themselves in hushed tones. He then resumed his discourse with the rebellious triad.

" _You_ three will be responsible for laundry duties in addition to your janitorial obligations here. I predict that each of you will be spending the majority of your spare time in _rapt_ meditation for the next _two_ weeks. There will be no unsupervised free periods around the Praxeum until your probation is lifted. It's more than fair, considering the circumstances. Do we have an understanding?"

They accepted the final ruling in tandem, respectfully nodding in compliance.

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

He returned their gesture in kind.

"That is all. You are dismissed."

As Luke turned to leave the room, a sea of soiled beige tunics and food-stained faces parted for him, watching in awe as he seemingly floated across the floor, his Jedi robes flowing gracefully behind him. Once he was finally out of sight, the band of trouble-makers carried on with their chores, chirpily prattling now that they were no longer in fear for their lives. Ben and his roguish partners in crime began righting the tables and collecting dishes and cutlery to stack, readying them to be passed off to the designated dishwashers. They worked in silent rumination, hardly acknowledging each other as they worked. Myka seemed especially skittish as they slaved away, glancing towards the cafeteria every few minutes. After a while, she apprehensively whispered to the boys.

"Do you think he's still watching us?"

Vladik snorted pompously, stating his opinion with a certain matter-of-factness that had Ben shaking his head and rolling his eyes. _Here we go again._

"Of _course_ , he is. Master Skywalker _sees_ all and knows all. He uses the force to spy on us, even in our quarters past curfew. How _else_ would he know when someone stays up after lights out?"

A terse, guttural growl escaped Myka's lips, and in a rash fit of frustration, she suddenly swung at Vladik, landing a solid blow to his shoulder. He howled in pain, reflexively settling into a defensive stance, but Myka ignored his invitation for another fight, opting to wield her tongue like a double-edged vibroblade and save the hand-to-hand combat for another time.

"You're positively _obnoxious_ , Vlad. Ever the outlandish conspiracist. This is all _your_ fault, you know! You and your stupid _ego_ got us into this mess. I hope you trip and land face first in bantha fodder!"

Vladik indignantly countered in disbelief, feeling tremendously affronted by his sister's accusation.

" _Me_?! _You_ shot _first_ , madame force fingers. Your trigger-happy _force tantrum_ was the catalyst for all this. I was just the _victim_! An unwillingparticipant in your hormone-induced rampage! You went on a full-blown assaultspree and used me as _target practice_! You should be _thanking_ me for not expressing my brotherlyconcern to Master Skywalker about your little episode. After all, a padawan caught having an emotional breakdown is a _serious_ issue."

"Unwilling my _ass_! And are you kriffing _kidding_ me right now?! I _know_ you did _not_ just threa- "

Ben was at the end of his rope, and he refused to suffer through this sithspit any longer. He unceremoniously cut Myka off and vehemently made his aggravation known.

"Could we _please_ , for the love of the _force_ , just… maybe _not_ start this again?! I think being mentally dissected by my uncle _once_ today was enough. I couldn't care _less_ about who started what, but I'd be _more_ than happy to finish it at this point! Seriously… if you _must_ murder each other, could you do it swiftly and silently, so we can all just _get on with it?_ Is that too much to ask?!"

The obstinate rivals pressed their lips in thin lines, stealing bloodthirsty glances at each other before finally yielding, both admittedly starting to feel deflated and tired of the sport. Vladik cast his eyes downwards as he awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck. Meanwhile, Myka stepped forward to face Ben directly. He had crossed his arms and looked, quite frankly, disconcerting, with his intense eyes and brooding visage. She could see a certain family resemblance to his uncle, if Luke had darker, more prominent features and looked as though he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

There _were_ times when Luke felt that way, of course, but Ben… Ben was withdrawn and had a fatalistic outlook on life. His soulful eyes were old and weary, as if he'd battled through many a tragic war, too much for someone so young. He seemed to draw a darkness around him wherever he went, though it rarely revealed itself long enough to be noticed by most. Myka had a knack for discerning such minute details, however, and she could see past his standoffish indifference, where a more vulnerable, _sensitive_ Ben hid behind a makeshift mask. Despite his outward, stoic disposition, Ben was, in truth, very compassionate, and he preferred to avoid conflict and confrontation whenever possible. It was one of the many things that endeared him to Myka. She felt as though they were kindred spirits, the three of them. As often as they were at each other's throats, they would take up arms without a second thought to stand by one another, when it _really_ counted. The deep-seated kinship they shared would _always_ prevail over anything else. She took a deep breath and offered him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Ben. You're right. It's _our_ fault you got in trouble with us. Well… mostly Vladik's fault, but, I'm still sorry you got blamed for it. I heard the way Master Skywalker questioned you. You didn't deserve to get caught in the crossfire like that."

Vladik grumbled half-heartedly, unwillingly to bite his tongue for longer than three seconds at a time, though his normal bluster was considerable subdued now.

" _Mostly_ my fault? Look who's being immature now…"

Myka compulsively rolled her eyes to the back of her head with a spasmodic flutter of lids.

"Can it, you nerf-herder. At least _I'm_ willing to admit fault and properly apologize."

Ben startled them as he impatiently cleared his throat. He pushed his hands at them emphatically, signaling a demand for silence. With threatening eyes and gritted teeth, he ground out orders, vexation charging his tone for added impact.

" _Enough already!_ Look… we've got a sith-ton of cleaning to do, and _I_ , for one, have no desire to be mopping up slop all night with you two bucketheads. If you want to continue your ridiculous little power struggle _after_ we're done, then fine. But for now, let's just all _shut up_ and get this over with. Alright?! At this rate, we're never sleeping again."

The ferocity of his tone caught them off guard. Ben had unknowingly used more force to convey his message than he realized. The unintentional side effect caused Myka and Vladik to temporarily lapse into a hushed daze. The feeling passed almost instantly, but none of them quite knew how to respond to the bizarre occurrence. So, they ignored it. Myka nodded in agreement with Ben and began wiping off the nearest table with a kitchen rag that had been dropped off by one of the other kids during their squabble. Vladik gave a disgruntled huff and peevishly conceded for the sake of their sanity so they could follow through with their community service.

"Fine."

The rest of their time in the mess hall was relatively uneventful. Luke came to inspect their work at the end of the hour. Everyone lined up along the wall near the main entrance as they waited for Master Skywalker to give his final verdict. Once he was satisfied with his assessment, he gave his stamp of approval and released the padawans to their quarters. They would all still have to shower, of course, but there was nothing else to be done for the day, and they gratefully took their leave without complaint. Myka's and Vladik's huts were adjacent to each other near the main temple, while Ben's hut was the furthest away from everyone. He'd requested to stay at a distance from the other padawans when he was a little older than Myka, claiming that he meditated better when he had space to breathe. Luke had argued with him at first, but he soon won that battle, pestering his uncle daily for almost two weeks. He knew Luke didn't really buy his illogical motivation, and, truth be told, Ben wasn't really sure why he felt the need to isolate himself any more than his uncle was. He only knew he felt a strong desire to do so, for reasons unknown.

The three of them walked together towards the padawan quarters, taking their time before parting ways. They casually discussed forms they'd been recently learning, avoiding any more controversial topics that could potentially lead to further outbursts. However, they ultimately _did_ broach the subject consuming everyone's thoughts as they reached Vladik's and Myka's rooms. Myka was picking food particles from her hair as the boys attempted to shake off caked on mush from their shoes and pant legs. A large glob of mashed potato sat on top of Ben's unruly mop, having miraculously survived his constant movements until just now, when it plopped onto his shoulder. Myka giggled, provoking Ben to glare at her with narrow, beady eyes. She took his flustered demeanor in stride, reaching out to brush the offending glop off his shoulder. His irritation was quickly replaced with embarrassment, and his blush reached the tip of his ears, which only made her giggle more, mirthful chortles echoing through the atmosphere. Vladik elbowed Ben's ribs and made a show of circling a finger by his ear as he nodded towards Myka. She gasped between peals of laughter.

"You… have to… admit… it was… pretty awesome! That was… the most fun… I've had in ages!"

She beamed at them as she caught her breath, struggling to regain control of her senses. Vladik joined in with a chuckle and a sly grin. He tilted his head to the side and began slapping himself with his hand, pretending to joggle something free from his ear. Presumably, his brain… according to Ben. Vladik quipped wryly.

"Yeah… but I'll have mashed potatoes clogging up my ears for days at this point."

The misfit pair were acting battier than a malfunctioning protocol droid, and it was all Ben could do not to slap them upside their heads. He settled for an apathetic eyeroll. They calmed down after a couple of minutes, and Vladik clapped his hand on Ben's shoulder, flashing a rascally grin.

"What do you think, Ben? Was it worth it to let loose and break the rules a little?"

Ben's face screwed into an unreadable expression as he debated how to best respond to that. Was it worth it? His closest companions were crazed, cheeky miscreants who couldn't manage to stay out of trouble for more than half a day. His uncle already thinks _he's_ the bad influence and the likely source for all things gone awry inside the academy walls. Never mind the fact that he suffers from dark nightmares he can never remember, giving him a constant sense of foreboding and restlessness. And he can't forget about his painstakingly kept secret involving a little girl halfway across the galaxy, who force visits him in the wee hours of the night. If his uncle had _half_ a clue about what was going on in Ben's life, he'd probably ship him home and tell his mother to have him committed somewhere. The only way to deal with the darkness that Ben felt bubbling up deep within him at times was to keep his head down and steer himself as far away from other people's shenanigans and pranks as he could.

So far, it wasn't quite working out since these two _lunatics_ had permanently attached themselves to him like extra appendages. But he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't tell anybody what he was _really_ thinking most of the time. And he wouldn't anyways, because they may be impulsive hotheads who got their thrills from walking the wire, but they were also his friends. His only friends. His _best_ friends. And even though he knew he could trust them, something in his gut told him that they would be safer, the less they knew. He wouldn't even know how to _begin_ explaining all the things that constantly swam through his brain. It was better to deflect and give vague answers, or no answer at all, than to risk confiding in the wrong person about his inner turmoil. He sighed and forced a smile, his lop-sided grin pasted on and out of place, like the gluey mess covering him from head to toe.

"What do I think? I think… I think… I. Kriffing. Hate. Peas."

* * *

They lurk in the shadows. Stealthy and menacing. Silently prowling. Waiting to devour. They cause hairs to stand on end. They send chills down shivering spines and coax gooseflesh to spread over every inch of exposed, tender skin. They haunt in dreams from dusk til dawn, only receding to the subconscious corners of the mind once daylight breaks. And even then, they linger, behind the curtain of the mind, whispering reminders that they _will_ return when night falls again. It's a predictable cycle as sure as the changing of seasons. It's hard to escape from monsters, even when you know they're coming. Ben was becoming all too familiar with them, invading his mind in the dead of night. He dreaded the rising moon. The freckled starry sky. It meant it was time to lie down and rest. But he never rested. Even as he slept. The terrors would come and drag him into darkness again. This night would be no different from the others.

The sobs reached his ears first. Pitiful, broken little cries, from a small child shrouded by the dark. It was always dark. Never-ending _blackness_. It never got any easier, having to adjust to the cold and emptiness of the dream world. Not that he truly ever could. Everything was so _severe_ and _unforgiving_ to the senses. His head would throb, having to suffer the roaring sound of blood pumping in his ears. His skin would prickle with terror at the thought of what _might_ be lying in wait for him. His mouth would run dry and his eyes would feel as though they were being repeatedly stabbed as he tried to blindly navigate the astral plane. But _despite_ the overwhelming sensory input, he was still aware of what was going on around him. The soft, doleful weeping distracted him from his discomfort. The child mumbled between snotty sniffles.

" _Please don't leave. Don't let the monsters get me. I'm scared. Don't leave me here… please…"_

An eerie blue light faintly glowed in the distance, gradually growing brighter to gently light up the room. Ben blinked several times as he readjusted, scanning his surroundings in search of the source of the despondent whimpers.

" _Hello? Who's there?"_

A startled cry gave him pause. The light flickered in and out, in sync with the increased wailing, as though each sob were siphoning off of whatever energy was flowing through the dark space. Ben strained his ears, cautiously following the sound of feeble whispers.

" _Please don't let the monsters get me… please don't let the monsters get me… please don't let the monsters get me…"_

Ben continued forward, slowly inching towards the voice, one step at a time. The pulsing glow persisted. Rhythmic blue wisps of illumination. Flicker. _Step, one… two… three…_ Flicker. _Step, four... five… six…_ Flicker. _Step, seven… eight… nine…_

" _Hello? Can you hear me?"_

A small, quaking form began to take shape several paces in front of him. Scrawny arms wrapped around knobby knees. A dark head of curls buried between them. The child rocked back and forth, blubbering between shaky, hiccupped prayers.

" _Please… don't let… the monsters… get me… please don't let… the monsters get me… please… don't…"_

Ben gently approached, stopping to crouch a few feet away from the tensed up, frightened youngling. He spoke in soft, hushed tones so as not to startle the little one.

" _Hey… it's ok. What's wrong? You can tell me…"_

The weeping stopped suddenly, and Ben could just make out the imperceptible jerk of a head as tiny ears perked up at the sound of his voice. They both sat unmoving for several moments. The child was paralyzed, hitched breaths still occasionally renting the air. Ben tried to assure the youngling again.

" _It's ok. I don't bite… really. I promise."_

The dark little head lifted slightly higher, as tiny hands warily loosened their grip from around tightly tucked legs. Another hiccup broke the silence, but still, Ben received no response. He repositioned himself, fully lowering his body into a sitting posture on the floor. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands loosely. He tilted his head as he eyed the young… _Boy? Girl?_ No. Not a girl. This was definitely a little boy. Ben carefully offered his hand and made one more attempt to engage the child in conversation.

" _Are you lost? I can help you… won't you tell me your name?"_

Ben dipped his head, hoping to catch the boy's eye as he gave a small smile, his hand still suspended between them. The youngling seemed to hesitate, staring at Ben's upturned palm as he considered whether or not Ben could be trusted. Another moment passed before he finally ventured to reach out his own hand and lift his head, traces of snot and tears smeared across his cheeks. Their eyes locked, and Ben sharply gasped in recognition. It was like looking into a time-warped mirror. Rich brown eyes quizzically stared at him, and he dumbfoundedly stared back… at a younger version of _himself_.

Ben swallowed dryly as the boy furrowed his brows in confusion. Their hands still hovered in the air, fingers nearly touching now. Young Ben opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, a door suddenly swung open behind Ben, startling them both as a blinding light pierced the space. Ben whipped around and raised the back of his hand to shield his eyes, squinting at the blurred form in the doorway. The boy had also snapped his head toward the towering figure, a man's silhouette becoming clearer as the light softened around him. A deep, stern voice disapprovingly resonated in their ears.

" _Ben! What are you doing here? This room is off limits. I've been looking for you everywhere. You can't keep disappearing like this. You know better."_

The boy sprung to his feet, trembling in trepidation. He hung his head and quickly sniffed, rubbing at his eye before wiping his nose with a damp sleeve, hastily trying to remove the evidence of his emotional disarray.

" _I'm… sorry… Master Skywalker…"_

Luke frowned at his nephew's disheveled appearance, but quickly softened his gaze as sorrowful eyes met his. He purposefully closed the gap between them, unaware of Ben's presence in the shadows. Luke knelt down on one knee and rested a strong, warm hand on young Ben's shoulder. His tone was gentle and quiet.

" _You've been crying again."_

The boy shifted on his feet and averted his eyes back to the floor as he nervously replied.

" _Yes… u-unc- Master… I'm… s-sorry…"_

Luke sighed empathetically, a twinge of guilt pricking his heart as he reminded himself how scared and lonely Ben must feel, having just left his mother's side only a couple of weeks ago, at such a tender age.

" _It's alright. You can call me uncle Luke. There's nobody here but us now. Come here."_

He spread his arms to embrace his nephew, and Ben clumsily stumbled into him as fresh tears spilled over, trailing down irritated cheeks to moisten chapped, quivering lips and drip off his chin. Luke allowed him to cry into his shoulder, rubbing his back as he patiently waited for him to calm down. Once his breathing began to steady, and his weepy eyes had dried, Luke gradually pulled away and grasped his shoulders once again. He searched his eyes as he spoke kindly, but firmly.

" _Ben… it is not good to run away and hide from our fears. Fear is the path to the dark side."_

The boy nodded, his face aflush with guilty shame. Luke further admonished him, though his mild tone never wavered.

" _You must learn to control your emotions. You are very young. It is understandable for you to feel scared. But you must not dwell on it. Tears have their time and place, of course. But not here. Not like this. Do you understand?"_

Ben faintly dipped his head in acknowledgement, breathing deeply to re-center himself.

" _Yes, Mas- I mean… uncle Luke. I understand."_

" _Good. Very good. Come now. Let's get you cleaned up and wash your face. We should be getting back to the others soon, before they start to wonder what we've been up to."_

A hint of a smile crossed Luke's face as he stood and took his nephew by the hand, leading him through the doorway and out into the light. The boy gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder before the door shut and vanished into thin air. Ben was left sitting in the dark, speechless as he tried to process the long-forgotten memory. It wasn't until a sinister laugh, coming from behind him, broke through his troubled contemplations that he realized he was unable to move. He bristled at the sound, futilely struggling to turn and face the ominous voice. _His_ voice. It hissed tauntingly in his ear.

" _Yesss, young Sssolo. Fear is the path to the dark ssside. You must learn to control your emotionsss."_

Another horrifying chuckle assaulted his senses, causing him to inwardly cringe. _He_ derided him knowingly, his accusation reeking with perverse glee.

" _But you never have… have you?"_

A hot, putrid smell permeated the air, stinging Ben's nostrils as he writhed, and an immense pressure started to build at the base of his brain. His heart was beating rapidly, blood painfully pumping in his ears, like so many times before. He felt icy tendrils raking across the edges of his mind, licking his brain with prickling, frigid heat. He could _hear_ the voice smile as _He_ retreated from his thoughts, pondering in amusement at what he found.

" _Yesss… you have much to fear… you dwell on it, day and night. Conssstantly dwelling."_

Sweat dripped into Ben's eyes and the dark cold bit into his bones, spreading through the marrow like a cancerous poison. He was vaguely aware that he was screaming inside of his head, but his throat felt strangled, and he couldn't open his mouth to make noise. The voice maniacally cackled, breathing hotly down Ben's neck.

" _Come… embrace the fear, young Sssolo. Dwell on it. Let it ssshow you the truth… the path to the dark ssside. Come to me… let me ssshow you the dark."_

The crushing, malevolent weight unexpectedly lifted, freeing Ben to move his limbs and speak. He cried out and instantly launched himself forward, breaking into a sprint to escape the _hell beast_. A massive black claw emerged from the shadows and swiftly clutched Ben in its grasp, dragging him back into the slowly collapsing void. He screeched and thrashed violently, exhausting his energy in an attempt to escape the fearsome talons. The sadistic laughter roared thunderously as the nasty hooks dug into him further, eliciting pathetic yelps from his bruised, abraded trachea. He winced and lolled his head listlessly, his vision tunneling. The claw rapidly retracted, carelessly flailing him like a ragdoll, the whiplash causing him to go numb. Once his body failed him and his brain began to shut down, he finally gave into the suffocating despair and welcomed the nearing abyss. Within seconds, Ben blacked out.

Eyes flew open and a tortured gasp wrenched free from his lungs as he jolted upright in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and his skin was clammy. His body was on fire and his head pounded excruciatingly as he leaned forward to brutally cough, his cords chafing together like sandpaper. Emotions swirled frantically around him like a destructive tornado, and he couldn't find an anchor within the force to pull himself back into control. So, he slumped to the floor and took ragged breaths, not daring to move until the debilitating fear and nausea began to subside.

The pain ebbed after a few minutes, giving him enough energy to push himself onto his knees. He stared ahead at the wall, dazed and confused as images from his nightmare flashed through his mind. But the memories were already fading, slipping from his grasp. He panicked as he struggled to hold on, to remember what happened, and he scrambled to his feet, traversing from the bed to his desk to turn on a lamp before pacing about. As his heart gradually returned to a steady thrum, he came to sit back down at the edge of the bed. With slumped shoulders and aching bones, he tiredly rubbed at his temples.

The night was clear and still, inviting him to let go of his fears and let cool waves of peace wash over him and soothe him back to sleep. His mental body and survival instincts told him to protest, but his physical body was worn and weak. The will of his flesh soon won out and he laid down again, not bothering to go turn off the lamp. As he slowly began to doze off, a gentle breeze drifted through the window of his hut, swirling lazily over his head and tousling loose locks of dampened hair. Soft, ethereal voices carried along the wind, lulling him to sleep as they sang of enchanting fairytales with happily ever afters, and ancient prophecies foretelling the rise of chosen ones. But before he re-entered the realm of dreams, the voices whispered a protective warning to ward off evil forces in play. _Beware the monsters. They lurk in the shadows._


End file.
